Page 118 of The Devil of Clan Sinclair
“I can’t imagine that happening, can you?”
“It isn’t wise to want to change the past.”
“No,” he said, “but perhaps wishes can change the future.”
She looked over at him. He was smiling at her, his gaze intent.
Their time was coming to an end. Surely he knew it as well.
Her absence from London could be explained by the fact she was recuperating from smallpox. But if she were gone too many more weeks, people would start to wonder, to speculate among themselves. Even as reclusive as she’d been, she was still the Countess of Barrett and people talked.
She wasn’t concerned as much about society as she was Lawrence’s cousin. He would not hesitate to question her remaining in Scotland. Perhaps he’d even demand to see Elliot.
“Thank you,” she said. “For the broadsides.”
He nodded, placing his hand atop hers.
“Virginia—” he began.
She shook her head, so close to tears at the moment that she wouldn’t be able to remain composed, regardless of what he said.
She stood on her tiptoes, kissed him softly on the cheek, then turned and left the room before he could stop her.
Chapter 29
Virginia returned from the nursery to find another gift in her sitting room.
Not content with giving her a crate of broadsides, Macrath had sent her a shawl yesterday, along with a note saying he’d purchased it from a woman in Kinloch Village renowned for her skill with the soft wool from Drumvagen sheep. The day before that it was a bouquet of heather and other late summer flowers, bunched together with pine sprigs and oak leaves.To remind you of Drumvagen Woods,he’d written.
This gift, however, was a rolled paper, tied with a simple string.
“Was there a note?” she asked.
Hannah sat in the chair beside the window, intent on adding white cuffs and collars to all Virginia’s mourning dresses. She bit off the thread with her teeth and shook her head.
Slowly, Virginia unrolled the paper to find it was a design. She traced the lines, realizing it was a plan for something at Drumvagen, to be built directly behind the house.
“It’s for the rose garden,” Hannah said, startling her. The maid had come to stand beside her and was peering at the plans.
“How do you know that?” she asked.
Hannah’s cheeks grew pink. “Someone told me,” she said.
“A rose garden?”
“Macrath knows you like roses,” Hannah said.
They were standing in a room specifically decorated with her in mind. Roses were prolific in the upholstery fabric, not to mention the potpourri scenting the air.
He’d gone too far. Entirely too far. He couldn’t keep doing such things, reducing her almost to tears with a simple gesture.
She rolled up the plans and tied them with the string, leaving them on the round table in the middle of the room.
Instead of returning to the nursery, she headed for the stairs.
The last two nights had been fitful ones, with Elliot waking every hour. She’d been desperate to calm him but nothing had worked. Not a warm bath or walking him, or even singing to him.
Brianag had been summoned by either Mary or Agatha, she wasn’t sure which. The housekeeper had taken one look at her son, nodded with a jerk of her chin and pronounced the child needing a teethin’ bannock. An hour later Brianag returned, producing a biscuit in the shape of a ring. When Virginia started to ask about it, Brianag placed her finger on her lips and shook her head.
